


we burned yesterday so we could live tomorrow (track 3: vagabonds)

by blifuys



Series: waking up the giants: fe3h song week [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blifuys/pseuds/blifuys
Summary: in no man's land, at least we're still standing // and we're all just fighting, some of us will not return // and there's no redemption in trying to find your way out // we're still vagabondsAfter the war, Ashe is finally faced with the question of where to go next. Felix offers him a solution.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: waking up the giants: fe3h song week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627228
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	we burned yesterday so we could live tomorrow (track 3: vagabonds)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beanyflavor](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=beanyflavor).



> HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BEAUTIFUL, TALENTED, WONDERFUL [GRACE](https://twitter.com/beanyflavor)!!!!!!!!!! I am always so thankful you were the one I got to do the ferdibert vday flashbang with. my greatest bang partner! i love u! I HOPE THIS MAKES U FEEL THINGS!!
> 
> the song this piece is inspired from is [vagabonds, from grizfolk's waking up the giants!](https://open.spotify.com/track/1kdSGyQyX0mxq75KSgcjic?si=neZbUoY_QKGj-S2pjfWuuQ)

The winding hallways of Enbarr are strange to Ashe. The architectural design is too different from what he's used to; bold reds and warm lights filling empty space where he expects pristine white marble and columns. He’s expected to know his way through the interior by now—as the rumored head of House Gaspard, he’s sure to make many trips through the palace from this point onwards, for the plenty of councils he’ll sit in to discuss reformations.

But in truth, it doesn't matter much to him. Come sunrise, the castle's layout will be long forgotten; pushed into the darkest corners of his mind alongside the memories he desperately wishes to forget. The seat of Gaspard will remain vacant, and its fate? Ashe does not have the energy to care.

His feet take him through the west wing. In the last week or so, he’s spent time preparing for his departure. His rucksack contains essentials, along with the bag of gold that’ll surely sustain him for a few moons. It’s dirty money anyway, he’s sure—clean gold never comes right after a continental war. 

The last stretch of hallway, ironically, proves the most difficult to cross. There are many things he ticks off his mental checklist; has he brought everything along? Did he miss something while packing? His mind wanders far enough that it eventually lands on the thought of a man whose bones were as cold as the snowy blankets of Northern Faerghus; whose sharp eyes could cut through people like forged, polished steel.

In recent months, Felix has become a lot more predictable. The last Fraldarius confines himself to the training grounds of whatever camp they've chosen to occupy, pouring his feelings into steel and iron instead of talking it out like any normal person would. There have been times where his friend ignores him—as if possessed by a spirit obsessed with stabbing his sins out onto lifeless dummies.

Ashe couldn't blame him. Here, surrounded by hues of crimson and gold, they stand out like a sore thumb. In the years the war has dragged on, the two of them have watched their friends within enemy ranks drop like flies into oceans of blood, bodies disappearing from sight forever. Smiles that burned themselves into his mind, lost to eternal silence. 

Some nights he asks the corner of his tent if he’s done the right thing. If he stares hard enough, the kind, wrinkled face of a father long passed comes to him; wordless. No matter how many times he asks, Lonato does not reply him, watching him like Ashe has done nothing wrong, like he’s still 9 years old without a single drop of blood on his hands. 

As war raged on, his desperation for an answer grew, festering under his skin like a chant—repeating over, and over again in his head. There was no one to ask, no one left alive that had a response for his answer— _ Lonato, did I do the right thing? _

So he’s decided to find it for himself. He hadn’t said goodbye to Felix just yet, but his companion is strong—a true knight of courage and character. Perhaps, in the years to come, he’d come to write Felix his proper, formal goodbyes—allowing the weight of abandonment to finally lift from Felix’s shoulders. 

He’s taken time to memorise the guards’ schedule, change of guards’ lasting approximately thirty minutes without a single soul in sight that had the power to stop him from leaving castle grounds. 

His heart pounds with anticipation, fear grabbing him by the ankles and making every step heavy. He’s almost dragging his heels at this point. What was he going to do? Where was he going to go? He hadn’t planned for what comes  _ after _ this step, and—

_ No _ , he tells himself. It’s now or never, and the sooner he gets out, the sooner he— 

“Where are you going?”

Ashe yelps, jumping a foot in the air before spinning around on his heels to confront the spectre that had suddenly manifested behind him. Where he expects a ghoul to be, ready to suck up his soul and drag him into the afterlife, stands Felix—looking very confused. 

“ _ Oh _ , Felix! I was just…” Ashe trips and stumbles over his thoughts. What excuse could he give a man who could pick out lies effortlessly? “Um. What are  _ you _ doing?” 

Felix doesn’t look like he’s preparing to sleep. Dressed in his usual garb, Ashe notices straps of a rucksack on his shoulders. No, Felix doesn’t look like he’s about to rest anytime soon. In fact, if Ashe didn’t know better, he’d think that Felix was— 

“Wait. Are you leaving Enbarr?” 

Felix does not hesitate. 

“Yes.” 

“What—where are you going, Felix? You didn’t tell me—”

“From the looks of it, neither did you.” 

All the accusations die inside of Ashe’s mouth. The truth is, he didn’t tell anyone. The plan had been to leave—to wander the world in search of something,  _ anything _ that could tell him where to go next. But in the midst of his own planning, it seems that Ashe forgot that there was another person whose ambitions died alongside his homeland, and that Ashe wasn’t the only one left behind in the ashy snow. 

“I expected you to stay, you know,” Felix says. “Edelgard promised you knighthood, didn’t she? Head of House Gaspard, I heard.” 

Oof. A touchy topic. 

“W-well, what about you? She said you’d be the next Duke Fraldarius, right?” She had. The Emperor’s promise was to install loyal agents in the former Faerghan territories, now without a leader since Rufus Blaiddyd had gone missing, and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd dead. Having fought on the Empire’s side, Ashe and Felix were the obvious choices in her potential Council, assuming that they would stay on board long after war had been won. 

They would not.

“I’m not planning on taking it.” Felix flicks a loose strand of hair out of his face. “It’s not my home anymore.”

It is to be expected. Ashe should have known that Felix would leave—he had never once shown a sign of fealty to the Empire, only in formality. In the nights they shared together for six years, the topic of  _ after _ had never come up, but Ashe thinks he should have seen it coming. 

But something about that thought sends a pang through his part, a painful dull ache that perhaps, all this while, Ashe would have ended up alone once more. 

“... I see.” Ashe says, averting his gaze, a sour feeling in his nose starting to grow. 

“... And you? Why are you leaving? Didn’t you want so badly to be a knight?” Felix’s words cut through him mercilessly, even while his friend didn’t have the intention to. Thoughts of knighthood, of valour, of  _ honor _ rush through his head. 

“I  _ did _ —” Ashe begins, though he has no idea of where his train of thought is going. Panic begins to settle in his bones, and all he wishes to do is run and hide from Felix, hide from  _ himself _ . “But—”

“But what?” Felix urges him, impatience obvious in his voice. 

“I just  _ don’t know _ !” Ashe yells, his voice echoing through the empty hallway, ringing through his ears as blood rushes through his eardrums. Felix looks stunned, how could he not be? In their years of camaraderie, never once had Ashe lost his temper on him, nor had he ever once raised his voice towards Felix. 

There is nowhere to run from the truth he’s hid from himself for six years and counting—and fear taints his blood like something dirty. 

“I just—I want to be  _ selfish _ for once. Why did everyone have to go?” Ashe stumbles over his words, throat tightening up over every single word he wants to scream. “ Lonato. Christophe _. _ His Highness, Dedue, Sylvain, Ingrid, Mercedes, Annette— _ everyone _ . They’re all gone, Felix! Gone!”

“I have no idea what’s next, where do I go now? No one can tell me something so simple— _ did I do the right thing _ ? No one can tell me because they’re all  _ dead _ !”

Tears spill over his freckled cheeks, like a dam broken free. He’s been holding this back for too long, it seems, so many years of feelings pouring over; right in front of a person he isn’t quite sure wants to be around for his meltdown. Ashe folds in on himself, wishing that the ground would swallow him up into the void so that he wouldn’t have to deal with—with— _ whatever _ he was dealing with. 

Suddenly, a strong hand grabs his bicep, squeezing him out of his spiraling. 

“Ashe.” 

It takes so much to look, to stop himself from shutting down from the fear that burns deep in his stomach. Felix’s gaze is so strong,  _ reliable _ , so much more than Ashe could ever hope to be—

“You are not alone.”

Huh?

“I’m not the best at emotions,” Felix’s lips turn downwards, a furrowed crease in his brow almost telling of his mental state. “But believe me when I say that you’re not alone.” 

“... What do you mean?” Felix is always hard to read, but Ashe tries his best to decipher his code. He’s learned, in the years he’s spent by his friend’s side, to read between the lines—beyond sharp words and poisonous looks, Felix is just as human as he is. 

“I’m not taking House Fraldarius back, because it’s dead.” Felix turns his gaze away for a split second, before he focuses on Ashe once more. “There is no one else left but me. Instead of signing off the last of my blood to tyranny, I choose to free my bloodline of knighthood. The Empire can take the land, it has no meaning to me. I’m taking back my freedom.” 

“Felix…” 

“And if you’re looking for answers, then maybe you should join me. I think we both have a lot of soul searching to do.” 

Ashe goes silent. There are so many thoughts in his head, amalgamating into a featureless cloud; one thought indiscernible from the other. What could he do now? There is no name to tie him down, nobody to ask for him to stay—the logical course of action to take would be to follow Felix. 

But is that the right thing to do?

_ Nothing remains of Duscur. _

Ashe suddenly recalls a voice. It sounds so far away, a memory locked behind years of trauma and compartmentalizing, but it grows clearer in his ears the longer he listens. He recalls a simpler time, black silks and gold embellishments; a plant he’s never seen before, the scent of spices tickling his freckled nose. 

_ Through me, they are able to live on _ . 

“Maybe they can live on through us,” Ashe whispers, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “Maybe they can live on through me.”

Felix watches Ashe expectedly. Their time in Enbarr runs short—there is only so much time until the guards come, until their opportunity passes them by. 

Felix stretches out a gloved hand. It looks welcoming, promising of what might be to come, of what they could accomplish together with their pasts behind them. 

And to Ashe? It’s enough for him to finally,  _ finally _ catch a glimpse into the future. 

Ashe reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against Felix’s before his hand curls around his, squeezing tight. 

“Let’s go.” Felix says, renewed determination in his voice steeling Ashe for their next step into freedom, into the unknown. “The guards might come anytime soon.”

“Okay.” 

\---

_ Ashe, the Arrow of Justice and Felix, the Meandering Sword  _

_After seeing the war to its end, Ashe and Felix embarked on a journey spanning across the whole of Fódlan. No records of a Duke Fraldarius and Count Gaspard exist after the Great War of Unification, but folk tales of a pair of men working tirelessly to restore peace across Fódlan live on in history. Some variations of the tales depict them protecting small villages or saving the villagers from danger, but the common storyline is that they were always seen together, inseparable._

**Author's Note:**

> the historians are cowards, [ashelix are gay!](https://twitter.com/beanyflavor/status/1237440399985315840?s=20)
> 
> [sometimes i tweet funny tings on my tweeter](https://twitter.com/blifuys)


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